


Ideas

by yeaka



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 00:09:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21024512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Richard sees something he likes.





	Ideas

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Set during the movie. Fair warning that this isn’t properly British.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Downton Abbey or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Mr. Barrow is a clever man. Richard is sure of that even after so brief a conversation. They haven’t yet had a chance to really _meet_, not properly yet, anyway—not like he’d like to. At the moment, they’re both little cogs in a much bigger machine, and they’re too busy turning to sit down and get to know one another. But Richard thinks he’d like to. He sees it in the calculated turn of each of Mr. Barrow’s steps, in the slight quirk to his lips when he cocks a grin on one side. Above all, he seems _interesting_—something Richard desperately needs.

He can’t imagine why Mr. Barrow is suddenly doing nothing. He’s stepped aside, still in full livery, while a man twice his age blusters for failing control. None of them have much of that anyway—the royal staff steamrolls the abbey’s. Richard at least tries not to be rude about it. He doesn’t really care what power struggles go on between the others, except that it feels like he’s in a war, and unfortunately, he’s on the wrong side of Mr. Barrow. 

He catches a glimpse of Mr. Barrow down the hall, idly watching a footman from either camp squabble over nothing. That’s when Richard properly notices the brace around Mr. Barrow’s hand. It might be some sort of bandage, but he won’t know until he gets a look up close. Until he gets his hands on it. He thinks of that hand touching his face, caressing his cheek, gently threading back into his hair. In that moment, he thinks of crossing the space between them and pinning Mr. Barrow up against the wall, throwing propriety right out the window and enjoying himself the way any normal man would in any bar. 

He’s far from normal. They’re hardly in a bar. But he thinks of it anyway. He thinks of scraping his teeth down Mr. Barrow’s throat, pulling the buttons off his shirt and destroying his jacket beyond repair in an effort just to get it off. Richard would thrust his knee between Mr. Barrow’s legs, smash his lips against Mr. Barrow’s, pry them open and lick around the wet warmth of his mouth. Richard thinks of running both hands down Mr. Barrow’s taut chest to the trim expanse of his stomach to the rising bulge—

A maid chases the footmen off. Mr. Barrow seems to lose interest in them, and he turns to go, but first glances down the hallway.

His eyes connect with Richard’s. Richard smiles.

Mr. Barrow smiles too.

Then he’s off, and life resumes.


End file.
